


chasing down a fallen star, back to where you are

by skatershelley (niamdox)



Series: memoirs of an imaginary friend (lashton) [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer
Genre: George is in exactly one scene and talks exactly once, Imaginary friend AU, Luke is studying abroad in New York, M/M, Michael and Calum aren't in this at all their names are just mentioned, Prompt Fill?, imaginary friend!Ashton, same with Niall, sort of, uni student!luke, why did I write him into this anyway?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2766683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niamdox/pseuds/skatershelley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first photo showed a tiny Luke in an oversized waistcoat and his father's shoes, grinning from ear to ear while looking out from under an equally oversized fedora. On the space at the bottom, in his mother's handwriting, 'Luke (and Ashton), ready for a day at the office'.  Ashton? Luke couldn't see anyone else in the photo with him. As he went through the stack, the name appeared on other pictures, usually hastily written. At the bottom, there was a picture of an empty chair, a balloon hanging limply from the back, and a jar of Vegamite with a big bow on it sitting at the table. 'Ashton's fifth birthday party' was written on the bottom.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or, a continuation of my <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2673041">previous Imaginary Friend AU.</a> Luke is off at Uni in New York, lonely and homesick living with an oblivious roommate. And his childhood imaginary friend Ashton makes a sudden reappearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	chasing down a fallen star, back to where you are

**Author's Note:**

> Well. This wins the award for thing I wrote in the least amount of time. I'm impressed with myself. Anyway. Major props go to [lovealways1990](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lovealways1990/pseuds/lovealways1990) for leaving me the idea that I loved and ran with. I promise this isn't as sad as the last one.
> 
> You could probably understand this without reading the last one, since I sort of recap in the beginning, but I really would recommend going back and reading the first part if you haven't yet. There's a few references that probably won't make complete sense if you haven't read that first!
> 
> Title from Central Park by Union J, which has nothing to do with the fic really, but I'm in love with the new album so I had to find a lyric to use as the title. You should probably listen to it because it's amazing.

University was proving to be lonelier than Luke ever imagined. Studying abroad had sounded like a fun adventure at the time, and he'd heard from everyone he knew that New York was a fabulous city. That he would definitely enjoy himself and make friends and maybe finally decide what he wanted to do with his life. So far, that wasn't happening.

Half the people he tried to talk to couldn't understand him through his accent, something that got to be frustrating after the second or third  _"what did you say?"_   The other half didn't seem to care to talk inthe first place. Americans were turning out to be quite rude, or at least, the New Yorkers. Everyone always had somewhere to be or a deadline to meet, and on more than one occasion he'd thought someone was talking to him when they were actually on their Bluetooth. Or whatever those ear phones were called. Add onto that the constant, inescapable noise, and Luke was beginning to wonder why he left Australia in the first place.

Needless to say, he didn't get out very much.

He missed his family, and Michael and Calum. Sure, he had a roommate but, unlike Luke, Louis had a social life and liked the noise - if nothing else, Louis Tomlinson was noise incarnate - and was just all around a more interesting person. Nice enough guy, when he was actually home he'd chat Luke's ear off and sometimes after class they would play footie in Central Park, but he didn't invite Luke to any social engagements. Which bugged Luke even though he had no interest in parties or group dates or whatever Louis did on weekends. He at least wanted to be invited.

Instead, if he wasn't in class, he was usually studying. And when he'd studied so long that the words in his textbooks started to blur together, he'd call his mum, or watch reruns of House Hunters and Golden Girls on TV. Whichever happened to be marathoning at the time. After a while, it started to feel routine and dull, so he sporadically decided to explore the city. That's what he was there for anyway, experiencing other cultures and ways of life. But being outside among the skyscrapers and crowded streets always made him feel incredibly small and somehow even more isolated. Wash, rinse, repeat. The same cycle over and over. Week after week, and eventually, month after month.

Liz caught onto his homesickness and sent a care package for Christmas. A big heavy box full of things from home: candies, homemade treats, Polaroids and home movies, and more Vegamite than Luke knew what to do with.

"This tastes like shit," Louis proclaimed after sticking his finger in a jar and licking it off.

"We don't usually it easy it straight from the jar, Lou. Try it on toast."

"How is  _that_  supposed to make it taste any better?"

Luke sighed and shook his head. Electing to ignore Louis' questions about the Australian way of life was generally easier than answering them. Louis did the same with Luke's questions about England. Though he wasn't much for the Vegamite, he was more than happy to help Luke polish off a batch of his mum's cookies before announcing that he was going out and leaving Luke alone with the rest of his things. He snagged a bag of sweets and the photos and made himself comfy on the couch.

The first photo showed a tiny Luke in an oversized waistcoat and his father's shoes, grinning from ear to ear while looking out from under an equally oversized fedora. On the space at the bottom, in his mother's handwriting, ' _Luke (and Ashton), ready for a day at the office'._   Ashton? Luke couldn't see anyone else in the photo with him. As he went through the stack, the name appeared on other pictures, usually hastily written. At the bottom, there was a picture of an empty chair, a balloon hanging limply from the back, and a jar of Vegamite with a big bow on it sitting at the table.  _'Ashton's_   _fifth birthday party'_  was written on the bottom.

Puzzled, Luke phoned home.

"Don't you remember? Ashton was your imaginary friend. Goodness, you had him until..you were in middle years, weren't you? You were so upset when you said he left." His mum explained over the phone, sounding a bit nostalgic for her little boy's childhood

Luke went quiet. He couldn't remember having an imaginary friend, especially not for that long. He said the only thing that came to mind. "Wait, what?"

"One day you just sent Mike and Calum home when they came over to play with you, and you came downstairs crying and going on about Ashton going away. Your Dad and I were relieved, honestly, you were so old to still have an imaginary friend."

"Mum, I was a traumatized child."

"I didn't say we didn't feel bad about it! We were concerned, love."

She went on telling stories about Luke's adventures with his imaginary friend, and slowly, it started to come back. By the time he hung up, he felt sure he didn't remember because his friend left him. He had a dream that night about Ashton and one of their backyard adventures.

* * *

Ashton wasn't quite sure how many years it had been since he'd seen Luke. Really seen him. He'd been there the whole time, tucked safely into Luke's memory, but somehow alive. He tried not to think about it. It gave him headaches. Which made him wonder how figments of someone's distant memories could get headaches. Which only made the original headaches worse.

All that aside, Ashton kind of liked watching from the inside. He got to be that little voice in Luke's head. Not that Luke always listened. Ashton almost had a coronary screaming at Luke that ' _NO, YOU SHOULDN'T KISS_ _MICHAEL_   _CLIFFORD_ _!'_  back in year nine at a party after they'd all drunk punch that someone had spiked. That is, if figments could have coronaries. Ashton never did get over his hatred of that boy.

But other times, Luke did listen, albeit reluctantly. He was the one who told Luke he should definitely study abroad.

What he didn't count on was Luke being so lonely. It made him want to force his way out and manifest himself again, just so Luke didn't have to be alone. In fact, he probably would have, if Luke's conscious memory would allow it. Funny things, memories. Even when they want to make themselves surface, they had a hard time getting past that Berlin Wall of consciousness.

He did, however, see a crack in that wall.

Luke remembered him again. Actually, consciously, remembered him. Hearing that made Ashton a bit giddy. Like he had a chance to keep Luke company again.

* * *

After the photos and the dream, memories of his childhood started to slowly creep back to Luke. At first they came one at a time, sitting in lecture or eating cereal while he listened to Louis blabber on and on about how the tea in America is utter shit or while he was reading a chemistry book in the library. Random memories, at random times. The idea of an imaginary friend didn't sound too bad, being as he was 16,000 kilometers away from his best friends and only had one friend in America. Having a constant companion he could bring out at will sounded fantastic.

But on the other hand, what kind of eighteen year old has an imaginary friend? People already thought he was weird, God only knows what they would think if they found out he had an imaginary friend. The urge to conjure one up dissipated after that thought.

Time went on, Luke remembered, Ashton pushed harder. Luke started spending more and more time alone, now that Louis had a new boyfriend and was spending more nights than not at his flat. Eventually, Luke got a job at the record shop down the block in an attempt to make some extra money and maybe even some friends. At least at the record shop he wasn't considered weird, he even gained a bit of a reputation as the go-to person to music recommendations. It was a good job, and the clientele were nice enough, but it was a slow job. Music shops just weren't as big as they used to be, and Luke was still spending a good deal of time alone.

He isn't able to pinpoint exactly when, but at some point he starts talking to himself. Just when he's alone, stocking the shelves, counting the money in the register, on the walk home, anytime he's alone.  _'Talking to yourself isn't crazy,'_  He thought.  _'Everyone talks to themselves sometimes.'_  


What he didn't know, or maybe realize, was that he was really talking to Ashton. The figment of his imagination that had been hiding in the back of his mind for so many years. For Ashton, it was a victory. Even if Luke didn't know it was him, he was still talking to him. That much made him happy.

* * *

Nighttime was the worst for Luke. The city twenty-stories below him was still abuzz with activity and light long after midnight, when he still lay wide awake staring at the ceiling. It made him miss home, and his own bed. The glow-in-the-dark stars that stuck above him since he was three years old.

He often replayed the memory in his mind, his tiny self standing on the bed, directing his dad to the exact spots where they were to go and consulting Ashton on his opinions.  _"Ashton says you should make Orion."_  He remembers instructing, pointing at the constellation in his space book for his dad to see. His father chuckled and did as he was instructed many times over, because Luke insisted that they all form real constellations.   _"I don't want to make them up. I like the real ones."_  

One afternoon, on a whim, Luke asked his mum to send him a picture of the stars over his bed and bought a few packs of new ones to put above the bed in the apartment. In the eight months he'd been in America, he hadn't bothered to make the room feel a little more homey. It still had the same blank off-white walls it had when he'd moved in. Save for the curtains on the windows, which he'd put up within the first two weeks because he was sick and tired of being woken up with the sun every morning.

Consulting the photo on his phone, Luke spent the better part of the day meticulously sticking stars to the ceiling in the exact same patterns in the exact same places. When he finished, he jumped down from the bed and flicked off the lights to admire his handiwork, smiling to himself and surprising himself thinking about how Ashton would be proud of him. 

Luke almost thinks he hears _"I am proud of you, Luke."_  


* * *

"Aren't you a bit old for glowy stars, Hemmings?" Louis asks upon barging into Luke's dark room early one morning.

"Aren't you a bit old for inviting yourself in, Tomlinson?" Luke parrots back, getting himself a look of offence from his flatmate.

"I think they look nice." Another boy, Louis' boyfriend, this kid named George, compliments from just outside the door. He has a British accent much like Louis, but it sounds different. Luke thinks he remembers Louis saying that he was from Bristol. Either way, Luke smiles at him appreciably.

"Thank you. Louis, why can't you be polite like your boyfriend over there? I thought you Brits were supposed to be all posh and polite."

Louis rolled his eyes as if to say  _oh, give me a break_  and flops down on Luke's beanbag chair. "And I thought you Aussies were supposed to be all  _g'day_ _mate, put some shrimp on the barbie_ , but apparently not." He put on a mock Australian accent, bad enough that even Luke had to giggle right along with George at how ridiculous he sounded. "Now, if you can stop mocking my heritage, I have a proposal for you."

Luke opens his mouth to inform Louis that he hadn't mocked his heritage, but it was in fact the opposite, but Louis cut him off. "You need to get out. George knows a lad who knows a lad.."

This time it was Luke who cut Louis off. "Are you..setting me up on a..blind date?" He asked cautiously. "You know, me and my friend Michael have a thing."

"Jesus, no. We're taking you to a party. No dates required. Just vodka and good times."

Something in the back of Luke's mind screamed at him that this was a terrible idea, but another, less rational part of his mind could only think about how he'd wanted Louis to ask him to come along to a party for months. The less logical part won out.

"Okay, but if you two get piss drunk and pass out before I want to go, I'm leaving you there."

* * *

The day of the party, Luke spent the better part of the morning trying to figure out what one even wears to a collage party. He didn't want to look like an idiot, but he didn't want to mess up his best clothes. According to Louis, the party was being hosted by an Irish boy in their study abroad program named Niall and warned him that if he didn't drink, it would probably offend their gracious host.

"The Irish love their alcohol. Hope you can hold your liquor." He explained over breakfast, eating a banana in the most obscene way known to man.

"I had a few beers the night before I flew up here. Calum and Mikey threw a going away party and I spent the entire twelve hour flight puking up my spleen."

"That's impressive," Louis said, mouth full of banana, and launched into a story of his own about his first hangover.

Meanwhile, the part of Luke's brain that knew a party was a bad idea kept pestering him. And Luke kept showing it aside, only to have it return like it was annoyed that it was being ignored.

* * *

Maybe Ashton wouldn't have been so against the idea of Luke going to a party if he thought Luke could take care of himself or that someone that could would be there. He wanted Luke to be safe, and questioned that Louis would do that. Louis Tomlinson gave him the same feeling that Michael Clifford did. He would send chills up his spine if he had one. But Luke was determined to go, whether Ashton wanted him to or not.

And that was how it all started.

Of course, Luke got wasted by his second beer. Of course, that arsehole Louis kept bringing him shots of god-knows-what and Luke kept taking them. It was inevitable that Luke would find himself sitting on the couch talking to a lamp completely on his own after Louis disappeared into a spare bedroom with George. By then, Ashton had had enough. Luke wasn't capable of keeping him safely in his mind right now, so what was stopping him from showing himself?

Luke nearly fell off the couch when Ashton's hazy figure appeared on the couch next to him. Even though he was drunk and Ashton looked older than he remembered, he could still somehow tell that's who it was. Ashton. His imaginary friend.

"Ash?" He asked quietly, eyes wide in surprise and a sort of wonder. Like the inebriated part of his brain couldn't quite figure out where this person came from.

"Hi Lukey." Ashton smiled at him. Taking in how his friend had aged since he'd seen him last. He had a little bit of scruff on his chin, but everything else was almost the same. Just maybe more mature somehow.

Bit by bit, Ashton's figure solidified in front of Luke, and more and more Luke started to believe he was really there. It was probably the alcohol in his system. But maybe a little bit of his sober mind wanted him to be.

"You need to go lie down, okay? You can't get yourself home. Lets stay here." Ashton said slowly, standing up and holding out a hand, which Luke reached out and took in awe.

"But it's loud in here."

"Not if we can find a spare room. Lets look upstairs."

Ashton led Luke up the stairs, past couples dry humping and sucking face all the way, until they finally found an empty room, to which Ashton made Luke lock the door before curling up in bed.

"Are you gonna stay?" Luke asked sleepily, making grabby hands at Ashton.

"Of course, Lukey, as long as you want me to."

* * *

Luke woke up the next morning with a pounding head, a bad stomach ache, and a strange feeling that he wasn't alone in a place that wasn't his bedroom. His first reaction was to panic, sitting bolt upright and looking around the room for any signs of life.

He found it in the form of Ashton, lying in the bed watching him carefully.

At first, Luke wasn't sure who he was. He looked vaguely like the Ashton he remembered, but older. "You look a lot like.."

"Ashton?" Luke's sentence was finished for him and he nodded, blinking at the man lying next to him until snapshots from the night before started creeping back.

"What are you doing here?" He asked quietly. He sounded small, timid, like he had when they first met all those years ago. "I thought you were gone.."

"You needed me again." Ashton said simply, giving Luke a little smile.

Luke stared at him a while longer before taking again. Trying to piece together what all had happened the night before and what, if anything, all the Ashton thoughts from the months prior meant. But all the thinking only made his head throb more. He lay back down and scooted closer to his old friend. "Are you gonna stay?"

"I'll stay as long as you want me to."

They lay like that for a while, cuddles up like they used to when Luke was younger. It felt the same, like no time had even passed and they didn't have to make up for lost time. Slowly, Luke's breathing evened out and slowed, enough that Ashton thought he'd fallen back asleep until Luke's tiny, sleepy voice came back.

"Ashy? You're real, aren't you?"

Ashton smiled, wrapped himself tighter around Luke and hummed contentedly.

"Of course I am, Lukey. Always was."

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @hensley5sos  
> tumblr: actually not fckedniam anymore, my new url is craicshelley!


End file.
